


Flipped

by Springmagpies



Series: A Distraction From Math Series [6]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, Meet-Cute, Something Extra, earth vs space, flipped perspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:00:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22948966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Springmagpies/pseuds/Springmagpies
Summary: Jemma Simmons is new to Shield High and doesn't know anyone. However, she does meet a rather distractingly cute boy in Math. An alternate perspective to A Distraction From Math series.
Relationships: Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons
Series: A Distraction From Math Series [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1516070
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	Flipped

If Jemma Simmons had her way, she would have refused to get out of her car. It was the first day of school--the first day at her new school--and despite the many shades of highlighters in her backpack and her color-coded binders, she couldn’t help but feel incredibly lost and unprepared walking into her senior year. 

Her day had started at five in the morning, the nervous worms crawling around in the pit of her stomach jolting her awake. She had pulled herself out of bed, climbed into the shower, and went to go blow dry her hair only to realize that her blow dryer didn't work for an American socket. She had stood there for a minute, her back straight, as her eyes bounced blankly between the socket and the purple hair dryer until the hazel irises slowly began to drown with tears. It had been such a silly thing to cry about, not having a compatible hair dryer, but she had sobbed all the same.

Having gulped back the remaining tears and pulled herself relatively more together, Jemma ventured outside the bathroom to look for a solution to the wet hair that now stuck to her face and the back of her neck, dripping little drops of water down her back. Pretty quickly she had managed to locate an adaptor among the many boxes that cluttered her room, but the feeling lingered with her through the entire process of drying and styling her hair. With her hair nicely done and her pre-picked outfit on, Jemma made herself feel a bit better with a cup of tea and a banana for breakfast, reading her book as she chewed and sipped. It was the same routine she had had back at home: breakfast and books. The familiarity of the process and her feeling a bit better and less like she was being swung around in a whirlpool. However, as much as she thought she had managed to cloud her nerves with a piece of good literature, some nice driving music, and a cup of home, it all came rushing back to her the moment she parked her car in the school’s parking lot. 

The high school was an L-shaped block of red brick and windows. There were some nice trees scattered about, littering pollen all over parked cars as a whip of oncoming autumn wind pushed away the heat of summer. Students were milling about, loitering outside the front entrance, gathering stuff from their cars, getting dropped off by their parents. Greeting each other after a summer away.

A girl with a swinging blonde ponytail rushed up to a boy and a girl, shouting their names—names Jemma couldn’t quite make out through the glass of her car windows—at their backs until they stopped what they were doing. The tall blonde girl, who Jemma assumed was a senior judging by her lack of supplies, the keys in her hand, and her height, greeted her friends happily with hugs, excited exclamations, and highly amusing comments that had her friends chuckling. The other girl, the one with dark hair and a mischievous smile, turned to the curly-haired boy next to her and lovingly rustled his hair. It was then that Jemma had to shut her eyes tightly, holding back the strange wave of emotion that hit her in the chest. She rested her head against her steering wheel, counted out a few breaths, and bit her lip when the feeling didn’t fully go away. When she opened her eyes again, the small group of friends was gone. 

Jemma sat in her car for just a bit longer, swiping away the stray tear that threatened to drop down her cheek. Trying out the breathing technique one more time, she took a long, deep gulp of air, fluttered her lashes to clear her eyes, and smiled at herself in the rearview mirror. She was Jemma Simmons, dammit. If there was anything that she could do, it was school. So it was a new school in a new country away from everything she knew. All she had to do was look at it as an opportunity to learn new things and meet new people. She just had to get out of the car and go in.

Jemma grabbed her backpack from the passenger seat and hopped out of her white Toyota Prius, shutting the door solidly behind her. She locked the car as she walked, not even looking back at it so as not to cause her to lose her nerve. As long as she kept moving forward and paid attention to the concrete feelings around her, she would be fine.

She took in just how lovely her surroundings outside her nerves were, a trick her mother had taught her when she was young.  _ Look through your senses and not through your head. _

It was nice and warm outside with a kind breeze and from outside the interior of her car she could actually smell the fresh scent blown about by the wind through the trees. The concrete of the sidewalk was solid under her feet and the pull handle of the main door was cool from being in the shadow of the building.

The first two things Jemma noticed when she walked into the school was how many people there were walking through the halls and how blue everything was. There were squares of blue tile littered about within the rest of the flecked eggshell colored floor. Large paper banners read “Go Eagles!” and “Welcome to Shield High!” in large blue letters. There were even a few students sporting blue sports jerseys or blue cheerleaders uniforms. Given how low the ceiling was, the blue became a bit overwhelming. Also, Jemma didn’t realize that American high schools actually had the whole students wearing cheer or sports uniforms thing. It was all rather odd to say the least.

The next thing that caught her attention was the statue of the school mascot sitting by the door to the front office. It was perched on a marble plinth with wide bronze wings spread and beak pointed down like it was about to take flight. There were also posters of eagles on the walls and a banner with one soaring over an American football field. The same blue uniforms she had spotted on a few students sported the eagle as well. Well, Jemma thought, Shield High really loved putting its mascot on things.

Passing by the eagle statue, Jemma followed a large crowd of students down the steps to the cafeteria. For some reason it was a mandatory thing for all students to get a fresh copy of their schedule before going to class, which was frustrating for her as she still had the same one she had gotten at registration. Jemma assumed the new copy was a backup scenario for most kids as well as to make sure no one was going to the wrong place on accident or on purpose. Apparently some kids did that, purposefully went to the wrong classroom. It was something completely unfathomable to her. Who would want to be in the wrong place?

If the front entrance had been packed, it was nothing compared to the chaos that was the cafeteria. It was like a mosh pit for the most boring concert ever put on. Bleary eyed teenagers with backpacks slung over their shoulders and books in their hands all gathered in a semi-successful formation as they lined up by last name to get their schedule. Some students already held the light blue paper in their hands, simply waiting in line with their friends, while others were obviously anxious to get a move on. 

As politely as she could, Jemma joined the fray and made her way to the back of the S through U line. It took ten minutes before Jemma finally reached the front of the line to state her name to the friendly looking Student Council member. The boy, along with his fellow council members, was wearing the school colors in the form of a Student Council jacket, the dark blue knit trimmed with gold accents. One pocket of his jacket was embroidered with what Jemma assumed was his last name “Mackenzie” while the other read Vice President in the same neat gold stitching. 

Though he was leaning on the table, Jemma could tell that the boy was rather tall, much taller than her, with broad shoulders and a warm smile. 

“Last name?” he asked as she stood before him, his voice much deeper than Jemma expected it to be.

“Simmons.”

Taking his elbows off the table, the boy stood up straight as he flicked through the box of file folders in front of him. “Jemma?”

“That’s me,” Jemma said brightly, rocking forward on her toes a bit.

“Well, here’s your schedule,” he said, handing her the paper with a funny flourish and a smile. He tilted his head slightly to the left. “So, you're a senior?”

Jemma nodded and the boy mimicked the motion, his lips tucked into his mouth like he was pondering his next question. 

“And, where did you move from?” He hesitated at the look that Jemma felt slide onto her face. “I’m sorry, it’s just that I couldn’t help but notice the accent.”

She smiled as genuinely as she could. It wasn’t an unreasonable question for him to ask after all. “That’s quite alright,” she said. “I moved here from England. Well, Sheffield to be exact. My dad got transferred here for work and sort of lugged the rest of the family along with him. Oh, goodness, that sounded like I was complaining. Really, it’s a lovely opportunity to explore someplace new.”

She had no idea why she was telling the boy all this, the words just spilling out of her mouth without her permission and tumbling onto him like a river rapid. That tended to happen when she was nervous. Instead of looking weirded out by her sudden dumping of information, however, the boy just looked at her with a face full of understanding.

“That’s a good way to look at it. Seeing it as an opportunity. I know moving that far away from home must be tough, though. My buddy moved here from Scotland a few years ago and he tells me he still gets homesick.”

A warm flurry of excitement fluttered in Jemma’s chest at the discovery that someone else at the school she was going to might be from the UK as well. “Oh, does he go--”

“Mack! What are you doing?” A girl with large eyes and dark hair curling at her chin came marching up, cutting off their conversation. 

“I’m talking to a new student, Raina,” Mack said calmly, gesturing to Jemma. 

Raina crossed her arms at her midriff, her Student Council jacket covering up the matching blue and gold flower print of her dress. It sort of looked like the hallway Jemma had just come from had spit up on her. All she needed was an eagle flying across her forehead and it would be a perfect match. 

“Well,” Raina said, cocking one eyebrow for emphasis, “you’re also holding up the line.” She turned her large eyes to Jemma and let a smile slither onto her face. “Welcome to Shield High.”

Jemma blinked and smiled back as kindly as she could. “Thank you.”

Raina gave her a cold smile that quickly morphed into a very thorny look as she turned to Mack. His responding glance was passive, his face refusing to rise to Raina’s cool and subtle chance at control. The girl in the flower printed dress glided away, parting a sea of students as she went back to her position. 

“Well, have a good first day, Jemma,” Mack said sympathetically, giving her a small wave as she ducked out of the crowded line. 

Jemma realized she had just had her first lesson in Shield High and she would have to remember to never cross Raina. 

According to her schedule, Jemma’s first class was math, Advanced Placement Calculus to be exact. She walked into the classroom with her chin up, clasping the straps of her backpack tightly. Despite being in a new school and a new place and in an unfamiliar classroom setup, no matter where she went math was math, just as science was science.

Mr. Hall’s room on the second floor was bathed in early morning light, striped with shadows by the slats of the blinds. The desks were set up in linear rows pointed at the large white board at the front of the room and Jemma sidled up to the front desk, right in the middle. It was her go to spot in most classrooms. There were bits of chatter flying about her and the continued lack of order so early in the morning was rather a lot to take in. 

Jemma busied herself by pulling out her math notebook, opening it to the first page and creating a neat table of contents in a magenta gel pen. The order of it helped balance out the shouting around her and she was so focused on her detailed lettering that she barely noticed anyone enter. However, finishing off the day’s date, she looked up just as two figures passed her on her left, the second one nearly tripping over her backpack.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Jemma said, swinging around and quickly moving her bag out of the way to make room for the black and white trainers she was staring at. 

“It’s alright. No harm done,” came a young male voice. Her eyes were on the source in a nanosecond. The Scottish source. It was the boy from the parking lot, the one who had gotten his hair ruffled by his friend. Up close she could get all the details of his face and she swallowed hard as she took him in.

He had a rather symmetrical face with a nice tilted square jawline. His eyes were a very nice shade of springtime sky blue, amplified by the golden light of the room and his strong cheekbones that she had the strangest wish to run her finger along.

Feeling like she had been staring for too long at the boy in front of her, Jemma quickly looked over and saw that his friend with the mischievous smile was the one he had entered with. She was standing with the strangest look on her face, an eyebrow arched playfully and one corner of her lips higher than the other. She had one hand lazily on the strap of her bag and the other crossed over her stomach and holding her waist. Jemma also noticed, as she turned back forward, that the boy’s face had gone and been lightly tinted pink.

The chatter of the room fell away for a moment as Jemma simply looked at the boy, continuing to absorb his sandy curls and lovely blue eyes. It was the boy’s friend that broke the silence. 

“Uh, Fitz?”

He startled, shot Jemma one last shy smile, and made his way down the column of seats. Jemma heard his backpack thudding with what sounded like books as he followed the dark haired girl to a pair of desks a few rows over and just slightly back. Jemma was a bit disappointed they hadn’t sat closer to her but there was only one empty desk surrounding her and they obviously wanted to stick together. They were not, however, far enough away for Jemma not to hear snidbits of their whispering. Well, it couldn’t really be counted as whispering given how well it carried over the din of the room. It would more likely have been categorized as raspy talking imitating a whisper. 

Pushing away the little bit of self loathing that accompanied her “not eavesdropping” Jemma subtly tried to look at the clock as a means of roving her head briefly in their direction.

“Daisy, hush,” she heard Fitz say to his friend, his head ducked low and his body halfway in the aisle. 

“Oh come on, Fitz!”

He leaned back into his chair and pulled out a very large notebook. “Drop it, Dais.”

Daisy did not look like she wanted to drop it but she quickly became distracted by the notebook her friend had opened, her jaw dropping as she jumped accidentally in her seat. “Woah, is that Wall-E?”

“Yep,” he said. Jemma had to face her notebook once more to avoid looking suspicious, but just from his voice alone he seemed rather pleased with whatever it was he was talking about. 

“Dude,” Jemma heard Daisy say, “If you could fix Wall-E’s screeching my parents will love you forever!”

“First of all, your parents already love me forever. And second of all, your mum will actually be more upset that I got rid of her ‘Daisy’s home’ alert device.”

“Okay, that’s true.”

The bell rang with a sharp trill and Jemma jolted, repositioning her placement on her chair. She had almost forgotten where she was, so lost in the conversation between friends. She shook her hair out of her face and closed her eyes on a deep breath.  _ Eavesdropping is not becoming, Jemma,  _ she thought. But it sure was addicting.

Their teacher, who had rushed in with a stack of collated papers and his face all scrunched, introduced himself quickly, repeatedly pushing his glasses up his slightly hooked nose. He didn’t even really do more than sit on his desk and say his name and the subject he would be teaching them before he started to take role. He uncapped a pen and began. 

“Lincoln Cambell?” he called out, his bespeckled eyes roaming over the class full of teens searching out the student.

A boy in the back with hair that glowed bright blonde raised his hand and Mr. Hall nodded, checking something off with a scrape of his pen. He looked back up from his list.

“Daisy Coulson?”

Jemma turned as Daisy shouted a loud, “I am present, Mr. Hall, sir!”

The class tittered and Jemma watched as Fitz dropped his forehead onto his palm. She also noticed, however, that he was grinning. 

“Yes,” Mr. Hall said, diverting Jemma’s attention back to the front of the room, “Glad to hear it Daisy.”

The class giggled some more but were quickly quieted by the continuation of the role. A few names went by before he called out, “Leopold Fitz?”

“Here sir and its--”

“Fitz. Of course, Fitz. Sorry, I was so caught up with what I was reading on the page I didn’t even process it was you. So sorry.”

“It’s not a problem Mr. Hall.”

Jemma looked over her shoulder to catch a quick sighting of Fitz while it was still appropriate. His name just having been read off the role, she still had the excuse of attaching faces to the names being called as her reason for being turned around. And Fitz definitely had an interesting name and a very interesting face.

“Jemma Simmons?”

Her hair flicked her cheek as she spun forward. “Here!” 

Mr. Hall smiled at her brightly. “Ah, a new student. Very nice to meet you Jemma.”

She could sense a few people leaning farther onto their desks or raising themselves slightly up from their seats to see her. But, she simply ignored it and smiled, listening as the role continued on.

Finally, with another shove of his glasses, Mr. Hall stood up from his desk and began passing out the syllabus.

“Now remember your parents need to sign--”

“The back page.” The class finished in a chorus and Jemma looked behind her slightly taken aback. So everyone truly did know each other and the school routine. She bit her lip as the packet of paper fell before her and she unconsciously held in a breath.

“Yes, the back page,” Mr. Hall continued. “Now, before I say what I’m going to say, I want no groaning from any of you. Copy?”

There were a few mutters as a response and many a nodding head as an indication of agreement. 

“We can’t make it into the book room until next week but I’m going to be assigning you a take home review sheet--well packet--that I want returned with your signed syllabus next time. Both will be counted for points, mind. Hey, guys, what did I say about groaning?”

But the room full of already tired teenagers couldn’t help it and there was a collective sigh given by the class. Jemma, however, was rather excited to flex her muscles with an actual assignment. Being so busy with the move, she hadn’t had any time to work on any at home experiments or equations. Her brain was starving for a bit of a mental workout. 

So when Mr. Hall started right in on his first lecture, Jemma was more than happy to follow along. Each time her hand went up in the air to answer a question she forgot her nerves, forgot the move, forgot the room around her. It was just her and some lovely math equations to keep her mind occupied. 

* * *

Her next two classes of the day, AP European History and Medical Anatomy, went rather well with nothing too eventful happening in either one. It was simply back to back sessions of meeting her teachers, getting handed the syllabus, and getting a taste of the teacher’s lecture style. Neither, however, were filled with anyone particularly interesting. Not like in Math. 

Next in Jemma’s schedule was a half-an-hour break for lunch. It was an undoubtedly lonely part of her first day of school and the whole thirty minutes she spent mostly in her own head. Jemma was somewhat frustrated as she ate her sandwich. She was normally very good at making friends, but tired from fighting off her strange waves of homesickness and her separate attempt at getting to know the school, she was just too focused on trying to get her bearings and keep her head above water to really talk to anyone. So, with her tin lunch box on her lap, Jemma sat outside on a bench in the courtyard and ate. She stared intently as her shoes traced over the tops of blades of grass and her focused gaze was saved from the sun by the shade of the large oak the bench was positioned under. The cool breeze that had been blowing in the morning had grown warmer with the sunshine but it was still softly scented with the smell of the trees. 

Jemma’s next and last class of the day was biology and she was beyond excited. It was another advanced course and she had a feeling that she was going to enjoy it immensely. Finishing off her sandwich, Jemma quickly checked the dainty silver watch on her wrist. It was nearly the end of lunch and she thought it was as good a time as any to start heading off to the biology classroom. 

The moment she walked through the door she took a large sigh of relief. It was wonderful. There were flowers and dark green plants everywhere; in the windowsill, hanging from the ceiling, on the teacher’s desk. There was a periodic table on one wall and a chart of different kinds of butterflies on another. Murals by former students were painted on the brick, a lifesize depiction of the human skeletal structure right next to the white board. There was also a skeleton in a lab coat, it’s mouth hanging open happily as its feet hovered above its stand. Along with the happy skeleton scientist, there also sat a shelf next to the windows with neatly labeled jars and supplies. It even looked like the shelves had some sort of color coding system. Jemma could cry. It was her heaven.

The lab tables were set up much like Mr. Hall’s class, arranged in nice and neat rows. Given that they weren’t individual desks but rather four-seater tables, however, there were much less of them and they were parted like the red sea, leaving a nice large walkway in the middle. 

Jemma found her spot at the front on the far edge of a table, closest to the middle. She quickly pulled out her notebook, despite the bell not even having rung yet, and began making a table of contents in her notebook, this time the title in a lovely shade of blue.

“Mind if I sit here?” A tall girl with a long blonde ponytail stood in front of Jemma, her finger pointing to the chair next to her and closest to the wall. She was the girl from the parking lot, the one she had seen running to catch up with her friends. The one who was friends with Fitz. 

Jemma looked to the chair like she didn’t know it existed before nodding and responding cheerily. 

“Of course, take a seat.”

The girl leaned over the black tabletop and set her backpack on the floor next to the chair leg before sitting down on the table and sweeping her legs over to the other side. She plopped herself down in the metal chair and stuck out her hand. She did this all in one fluid motion like she had practiced it a thousand times.

“I’m Bobbi,” the girl said. 

“Jemma,” Jemma said back, shaking the girl’s hand up and down twice.

Bobbi’s eyebrow raised up a fraction, a small smile ghosting over her thin face. If Jemma wasn’t mistaken, it almost looked like she recognized the name. Was there a chance she had heard about her from Daisy? Or Fitz…?

Bobbi crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair. She didn’t even seem to notice she had made a face as she simply started up a conversation. 

“So,” she said, “are you excited for AP Biology?” 

“Very,” Jemma said, tucking her hands into her lap and sitting up a bit straighter. Her eyes couldn’t help but wander about the wonderful room again, catching new things she hadn’t noticed before. How had she not noticed the lovely pea plants? How had she not noticed the mouse cage next to the pea plants? How had she not noticed the mouse?

Bobbi caught where Jemma was looking. “That’s Curie. Ms. Weaver’s field mouse.”

Jemma couldn’t help the aww that escaped her mouth. “That’s amazing.”

“Right!” Bobbi said, leaning forward and slapping her hands onto the desk. “I had Ms. Weaver for freshman biology three years ago. She’s amazing. You’ll adore her.”

“If her room is anything to go by, I’m sure I will.”

The bell clanged to mark the five minutes students had to get to class, music blasting loudly in the hallways and coming through the open door. Shield High, as a way of getting kids to class on time, played one song for four minutes before shifting it to a faster version of the same song as a one minute countdown. Jemma thought it was a bit excessive but nearly ran to all her classes so she guessed the music wasn’t really meant for her.

“Well,” Bobbi said as more people began to filter in through the door along with a very grainy version of  _ I Can Go the Distance _ , “an hour and a half more and we’ll be done with the first day of school.”

Jemma grinned, scooting her chair a bit closer to the desk. An hour and a half more and she could be home, a pretty successful first day done and down in the books. Yep, she was almost done.

Biology went by much faster than an hour and a half to Jemma. The whole class experience was an absolute joy and she couldn’t wait to learn everything Ms. Weaver had mentioned in her introduction. They would even touch on biotechnology! It was incredible. She had also made a friend in Bobbi, who was very kind and very smart. It was nice to have left school feeling not so alone as she had been feeling when she arrived.

Once the dismissal bell had rung and Ms. Weaver had excused them, Jemma walked back to her car much happier than she had left it that morning. Granted, she was still desperate to collapse on her bed and there was a very strange mixture of emotions in her mind. Part of her was excited about all she was going to learn while the other part ignored the distraction and dived right back into missing Sheffield. Jemma turned on the radio once her car had come to life and she let her mind wander a bit as she focused on navigating the still fresh streets back home.

As excited as she was to really get started in her classes--she was glad Mr. Hall and Ms. Weaver had assigned homework to keep her occupied in the meantime--she still had this aching feeling in her gut. She had made a friend and liked her teachers and there was a rather cute boy with blue eyes that had caught her attention, but she had this unbearable longing for the stucco walls of her old bedroom, the briar roses that climbed up the outside of her house. The reading nook in the living room with the baby blue seat cushion.

Her car came to a stop in her driveway and she put her forehead on the wheel for a moment, just as she had done that morning, inhaling and exhaling as she tried to isolate her emotions and box them up. 

“You had a good day, Jemma,” she said to herself, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear as she picked up her heavy head and met her own eyes in the rearview mirror. “You had a good day.”

And she walked into her house without another word whispered to herself in the silence of her car. 

* * *

It was about a month and a half into school when Jemma finally started to feel more at home. It had been a rough first week, lonely and brimming with homesickness, but once she had jumped the hurdle and gotten into a new routine she started to feel more at ease. She was excelling in her classes, had a good report with her teachers, and had found a good friend in Bobbi and, by extension, Bobbi’s friends. Well, she didn’t know Bobbi’s friends very well but she knew of them through stories Bobbi told during class. Though, Jemma had exchanged a few words back and forth with a few of them. 

Bobbi Morse had a very nice circle of friends. There was Mack, the very kind student body officer Jemma had met on the first day; Hunter, Bobbi’s wonderful mess of a boyfriend who Jemma had yet to meet; and Daisy, who was very funny and often made entertaining comments in class. One day, Jemma had had a whole five minute conversation with Daisy. As a part of an activity, they had been randomly split up in class and told they had had to grade each other’s papers. Earlier that morning, Jemma had run into Raina, who had pestered her for quite a bit about coming to the first football game of the season. After said run in with Riana, Jemma had asked Daisy about if the Student Council Secretary was always the way she was, somewhat sneaky but oddly convincing in her ways. Jemma hadn’t been thinking of going to the game, but Riana almost had her going just in fear of what would happen if she didn’t.

“So, she’d always like that?” Jemma had asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Daisy had said, “She has a real knack for coercion. Fitz has a theory she’s a hypnotist or something and that’s how she got her spot on the Student Council.”

“You think so,” Jemma said, chuckling. 

Daisy shrugged with her signature Cheshire cat smile on her face. “Well, I’ve never known Fitz to be wrong.”

They had had to turn their marked up papers back in then and the conversation with Daisy promptly ended. But, Jemma had at least been happy to get to know another person a bit better. 

The last member of Bobbi’s friend group was Fitz. The same Fitz that Jemma found more and more interesting as the days went on. One thing that was interesting--but was by far not the most interesting thing about Fitz--was that the most Jemma had really spoken to him had been in apologies. Multiple times there had been occurrences where Fitz had been walking through a door in front of her only to stumble forward and block her path. He was always very sorry for the inconvenience and his face never failed to glow crimson as he righted himself. However, he always followed up his profuse apologies with a sharp exchange of whispers with Daisy, so Jemma was pretty sure it wasn’t clumsiness causing the incessant tripping. 

There were a few ideas as to why he could possibly be getting tripped in front of her. Jemma assumed it was a game he and Daisy played often, tripping one another for the fun of it, and she just happened to be following them during a few of their rounds. However, a small little voice in her head liked to believe there was some motive behind it, a reason it was she he always tripped before. Perhaps--and she thought it was most likely wishful thinking on her part-- he had a crush on her. 

If there was a crush and Leo Fitz did in fact like her, she wouldn’t be able to deny her own, very fierce, crush she had on him. Despite never having truly spoken to him--apart from the many apologies and the ‘no harm done’ he had given her the first day--Jemma already knew she liked him. She liked the way he answered questions without an umm, how he never completely turned around in his seat but just twisted at the waist and looked over his shoulder. She loved how he always picked up pieces of stray paper from off the floor before he left class, either putting them on the table upfront or throwing away what was unsalvageable or straightforward litter. There were also many instances where he refused to let Daisy copy his work and instead taught her how to do it, always whispering to her “you’re smarter than you give yourself credit for” or things to that nature and every time it made Jemma swell with affection for him. 

He was also very very cute, which was its own distraction, and she really couldn’t help the way her eyes were drawn to the pasty Scot. He had the brightest blue eyes she had ever seen, ones that never failed to catch the morning sunlight streaming through the windows of the math room. He smiled at her when he passed her desk, with pink cheeks and those blue eyes that shifted away shyly as he passed. And he had lovely forearms, an odd thing she noticed but something that never failed to make her heart swoop when she noticed them. She had first spotted them one day at the start of Math as he passed her on his way to his desk. The day he had worn the baseball tee that matched his trainers.

At the start of October, Fitz got his seat moved in math. Moved to the seat just behind her. This meant she couldn’t stare at him as much anymore, but it also meant that he was close enough to speak to. 

Fitz always arrived just a few minutes before the bell rang, he and Daisy strolling in together ninety-nine percent of the time. Jemma, on the other hand, always came in extremely early and always alone. Her homesickness had been acting up as the weather turned colder and she was missing the English autumn. So, the morning after Fitz’s seat had been moved, she had plopped down in her chair and decided to power through her homesickness as well as finally truly talk to the boy who had been captivating her since the end of August. 

Just like he always did, Fitz walked in with Daisy at nearly a quarter to eight. He was smiling over something, rolling his eyes as his friend made wild gestures with her hands. Jemma could have sworn she heard something about someone named Doc. 

“Goodmorning, Fitz,” Jemma said, twisting a bit in her seat as he sat down.

His backpack thudded to the floor with its signature clunk and his eyes leapt from the ground to meet hers. 

“Goodmorning, Jemma.”

They blinked at one another for a moment as Jemma didn’t quite know what to say next. Luckily, Fitz broke the tension.

“What did you think of the homework?” he said, nodding at the notebook that was open on her desk. 

“It was fun,” she said, a grin pulling up one corner of her mouth. “I liked the escape room question.”

“Question twenty-two?” Fitz said.

“Yes,” Jemma replied, her eyes alight at discussing math with Fitz, “I thought it was a nice tie to science. Well, a theoretical application of science. I don’t know how applicable it would be for the real world, but it was fun.”

His smile changed to a little pretend frown and he shrugged his shoulders playfully. “I don’t know, Jemma. Having to blow open a window to escape a spaceship could be very applicable.”

The look on his face and the way in which he delivered his joke had Jemma giggling and she thought she caught him blush a bit, the tips of his ears turning pink. A single stray curl fell onto his forehead when he ducked it and it took everything in Jemma’s power not to lean forward and fix it for him. He looked down at his desk for a moment but not in a way that made Jemma want to turn around. He looked like he was just waiting to find something else to say to keep her attention. Just as he had initiated, so could she.

She grabbed the back of her chair and tilted her head to the side. “So, who is Doc?”

“Doc?”

“I heard Daisy mention someone named Doc.” 

It was then that she had a brief moment of panic. Dear Lord, she hoped he didn’t think she was snooping into his conversations. Had she on occasion, yes. Was she proud of it, no. But it was too late to take back the mention of Doc. She bit her lip and wished for a moment it was though.

Fitz, however, just let out a little breath of laughter. 

“That’s a long story,” he said, shaking his curls and ducking his chin to his chest. 

“Oh?”

He looked back up but covered half his face with his hand as he sighed, but not in a way that said he was truly annoyed. “Yeah. Doc is a plastic skeleton Daisy bought yesterday at ten in the evening.”

Jemma let out a giggle of her own. “And she named it Doc?”

“Uh.” Fitz dropped his hand to his desk and blushed. “No. I--I sort of did.”

She smiled brightly as the bell rang. Fitz’s face had turned redder but she didn’t think it was from embarrassment. He almost looked proud. 

Over the course of the following weeks, Fitz and Jemma exchanged more words than just ‘sorry I tripped in front of you,’ which was a very nice improvement. However, they still didn’t talk very much. They had a few more quick conversations before the bell rang, but, for the most part, Fitz was pretty shy and often became very absorbed in his work during class. He was exceedingly nice, though, always wishing her a good morning and always saying “see you later” before he left class with Daisy. 

It wasn’t until three weeks into October that Jemma saw Fitz outside of their math class.

It was a Thursday and Jemma was in her last period of the day, AP Biology. Knowing the majority of kids were more focused on Halloween than anything else, Ms. Weaver had assigned them an in class presentation due at the end of the period rather than starting another lab. Something fun and productive. Well, at least fun for Jemma. She and Bobbi had paired up together quickly, worked efficiently, and were nearly done three quarters of the way through class with plenty of time left to spare. So, a bit of non-project related chit chat was fine and completely in order.

“What are you doing this weekend?” Jemma asked Bobbi as they colored in the border of their flimsy but well designed poster board.

“Going to a party,” Bobbi replied. She capped the blue marker she was using and picked up the lighter shade for dimension. 

Jemma briefly raised her eyebrows before saying a quiet, “oh.”

“Well,” Bobbi continued, “I guess it isn’t much of a party per se.”

“What is it then?”

“It’s more of a get together. Hunter--you know my boyfriend--he throws a Halloween get together every year and has been since the ninth grade. We watch movies and play games and eat as much junk food as we can before we get too sick.”

“It sounds like a lot of fun,” Jemma said. She looked at Bobbi with a flat smile, suddenly feeling very out of place. Bobbi must have caught her expression because in an instant it looked as though a lightbulb had gone off behind the girl’s eyes.

“You should come,” Bobbi said, dropping her marker on the table and turning to face Jemma completely.

“Oh, I don’t want to be a bother,” Jemma tried to say, but Bobbi cut her off.

“You wouldn’t be. I promise. You’re more than welcome to join us.”

Jemma bit her lip and turned the marker between her fingers. “Who all would be going?”

Bobbi took a deep breath and looked at the ceiling like it was where the guest list was written. “Well, me and Hunter. Mack, but you’ve met him I’m pretty sure.”

“Yes, I’ve met him.”

“Daisy will be there. And Fitz. I think you said you have math with them.”

Jemma’s heart began beating wildly in her chest. 

“Fitz will be there?” she asked, trying to sound interested, but not  _ too _ interested.

If Bobbi wanted to smile, she didn’t. She simply nodded before she stacked her head straighter on her shoulders. 

“Well, do you wanna join in? We’d love to have you.”

Jemma nodded as a swarm of butterflies took flight in the pit of her stomach. 

“Great,” Bobbi said, “I’ll text you the details.”

Bobbi turned back to their poster and uncapped another marker. Jemma started up on her side of the presentation again, but her mind was far away from AP Biology. Fitz was going to be at the party--well, get together--she was going to and she couldn’t wait. After presenting their poster and finishing up with class, Jemma walked down the steps and out the front door of the school to the parking lot. It was only in her car driving home that panic started to creep into her bloodstream. She shook her head and tried to drown out her doubts. She was a nubile young prodigy with an above average fashion sense and Fitz… Fitz was Fitz. Thinking of his smile and the way he fiddled with his hands when he was nervous and the bright blue of his eyes, the worry in Jemma’s chest melted a little and she soaked in the afternoon sun though her windshield. 

* * *

Jemma arrived at the party purposefully and promptly late. Normally she was right on time or a few minutes--or half an hour--early, but, given her nerves and how little she knew most of the guests, she decided to arrive just a bit late so that she could meet everyone all at once and not feel like she was loitering alone in someone's house. And, besides, she had alerted Bobbi of her late arrival, texting her that she would be at Hunter’s soon, so it wasn’t as though she were being rude. She hoped they didn’t think she was being rude. 

Swallowing hard, she got out of her car and walked up the path to the front door. She timed the ringing of the doorbell with her breath, inhaling as she lifted up her finger and exhaling as she pushed the glowing golden button down. It took a few moments before the door swung open with a whoosh sound, revealing a very handsome teen in tight pants and a t-shirt tucked into the waistband. He was rather punk looking, with shortly cropped hair and a leather jacket thrown over his t-shirt depicting The Clash. But he had a kind smile and a magnetic air that made him appear very friendly. He must be Hunter, Jemma thought. 

“You must be Jemma,” he said, “I’m Hunter.” His London accent gave Jemma a spark of home and she suddenly couldn’t figure out how to move her feet. 

She blinked. “You’re English,” she said. Her feet were still planted on the doorstep and she couldn’t seem to get them to move, even as Hunter opened the door a bit wider for her.

“I am. And you’re nervous,” he nodded at her feet and her stiff arms that were locked at her sides. 

She loosened her posture and tried to tuck away a nervous smile. “Oh, well, just a tad.”

He grinned. “Don’t be. Now come on in before you meld with the porch. Everyone’s downstairs.”

She crossed the threshold and looked about the room. It was oddly organized and traditional, Hunter a sort of rebellion of the space. For some reason, seeing him within it felt more right than wrong. A very good rebellion. 

“You have a lovely house,” Jemma said. 

“My mum considers herself quite the interior designer. However, she does not have jurisdiction of the basement so don’t worry, the furniture is actually comfortable.”

Jemma grinned as she followed Hunter down the carpeted steps to the basement. When she turned into the main room she was welcomed by a chorus of greetings. 

“Welcome!” Daisy cheered, holding up a can of soda. 

“Hey, Jemma!” Bobbi said, standing next to Daisy.

Fitz’s salutation was slightly delayed, his “Hi, Jemma,” coming a beat after everyone else. 

“Hello,” Jemma said, “It’s nice to meet all of you properly. Thanks for letting me come to your Halloween get-together.” Trying her best not to fidget too much with nerves, Jemma allowed herself only one little nerve filled action: to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear as a bit of relief. She scanned the room before finally locking on who she was looking for. 

Fitz was sitting by himself on the loveseat, his back straight and his face almost a bit nervous. But he smiled at her when their eyes locked and she felt her cheeks grow warm. Distracting herself from the return of the butterfly swarm in her stomach, she glanced at the television and made a comment about whatever horror movie seemed to be playing.

As Hunter took her jacket, the one she had stripped off and held over her arm, she spoke. 

“What movie is this?” she asked.

“ _ The Lawnmower Man _ ,” Mack answered.

Jemma had no clue  _ The Lawnmower Man  _ was even a film that existed and she raised her brows up to her hairline. It looked like a rather cheesy horror flick.

“I’ve never heard of that film before,” she said. 

There was a sound of someone shifting in their chair. 

“That’s for the best,” Fitz said, his Scottish lilt tinted with a humor that made Jemma giggle. He smiled and looked at the ground and Jemma thought he looked rather cute. He always looked cute but seeing him with his friends and joking around made him appear even cuter to her.

“Go on and sit, Jemma,” Bobbi said, her finger pointing directly to the empty spot next to Fitz. The butterflies that had been flying about calmly for a moment began zooming about once more and she tried to keep herself steady as she came to sit next to him. Her arm brushed his as she sat down and she realized this was the closest she had ever been to him. He smelled like spices and pine and she was lost in his scent and the softness of his cardigan. 

“Sorry,” he said, shifting to give her more room on the couch. She wished he hadn’t, already missing his warmth next to her. 

She noticed his nerves and somehow that gave her strength. So, despite wishing he hadn’t moved, Jemma smiled and said, “That’s alright. So, I’m guessing Mack picked the movie then?”

“Uh--yeah. Believe me, if it were my time to pick we’d be watching something much better than this.”

He was still close enough that she felt like she could fall into the slight dip he made in the couch cushions. The proximity let her see all his features better and she decided right then and there that the color of his eyes was her new favorite kind of blue. Shifting shades dependant on the light. Like ocean waves. 

“What would be your pick?” she asked, trying to give a reason to why she was looking at him so intently. 

“Well, it’d be something we’ve all seen a million times, since we’re going to talk over it anyway. And something everyone here likes. I always go for something like  _ Harry Potter  _ when it’s my turn to pick the movie. Even though the books are superior it’s hard to deny a good  _ Harry Potter  _ marathon.”

As if he couldn’t get any better, he liked  _ Harry Potter.  _

“I love  _ Harry Potter _ ,” she gushed. Feeling brave, she clutched at his surprisingly strong shoulder. “And I agree the books are much better, but they do have the time to explore things more fully. However, I always see  _ Harry Potter  _ as more of a Christmas thing.”

Fitz scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Yes, they do tend to be good Christmas movies. But I would argue that the series lends itself to being less of a holiday-specific movie and more towards a “marathon” movie.”

Jemma let her hands fall to her lap as she pondered, but her shoulder was still leaned close to his. “So what is your definition of a marathon movie?” she asked.

“Marathon movies don’t need a specific time, they just need a lot of it,” he said, taking with his hands, “And you have to be in the mood for them.”

“Then why play  _ Harry Potter  _ at a party. There simply isn’t enough time--”

“To finish them. Yes, that’s true. But they also tend to be movies that everyone has seen, meaning at some point they also fall into the category of--”

“Background movies!” She finished his idea and he seemed absolutely delighted by it. 

“Exactly!”

He turned to face her and she gave him some extra room by tucking her legs up under her. It also meant she could get slightly closer to him and in her excitement about their agreement it felt the right move. 

Jemma had never talked as much, as openly, or as excitedly as she did with Fitz at the get together. They had a few group conversations and Jemma tried to make sure she got to know a bit more about everyone, but for the most part she just enjoyed chatting with Fitz. Talking with him, she didn’t even worry if they would eventually run out of things to say to one another. In her mind, there was no scenario where her and Fitz would simply sit in an uncomfortable silence. She allowed herself briefly, as Fitz got up to replenish their snack stash, to ruminate on the idea that perhaps they could one day sit together in a comfortable, romantic filled, silence, where their lips would be too busy with other things to form words. However, she quickly shook her head of those thoughts the moment he sat back down. There was still the chance that he just wanted to be her friend and God did she want to be his. 

Finally, as the party began to wind down, people started to stand up and stretch, throw away their garbage, and begin gathering up their things. Jemma and Fitz, however, continued to sit on the loveseat and chat animatedly with one another. Jemma didn’t feel the least bit tired and, from what she could tell, Fitz didn’t either. Mid-conversation on dielectric polarization, Fitz suddenly stopped talking and looked over at his friend, Daisy having stood up and stretched with a very loud yawn. Her eyes were rimmed in the remnants of her mascara and her hair a mess. She was definitely standing up to leave and Jemma’s heart sank when she remembered Daisy was Fitz’s ride home. 

“Are you going?” Fitz said, his eyes wide as he looked to Daisy.

Daisy frowned. “Yeah. It’s late and my parents want me home by eleven-thirty.”

“Oh.”

Daisy glanced at the clock before looking back to Fitz with an even more defined frown. “Speaking of which, Fitz. I don’t think I’ll be able to drive you home and still make it in time. I’m super sorry, I--”

A lightbulb went off in Jemma’s head and she didn’t even wait for Daisy to finish her sentence before she quickly cut in. “I can give you a ride.” 

She dared a glance at Fitz, catching his look of surprise as it faded into something very close to excited. 

“Uh, yeah--yeah that would be great! Thank you.”

“Great! Let me just text my mum and tell her so that she knows I’m going to be a bit late.”

Jemma pulled herself up from off the couch and whipped out her phone, typing a quick message to her mum about driving a friend home.

Her mom texted back quickly.  _ Which friend? _

_ Fitz _

_ Cute Fitz? _

Jemma dropped her shoulders and replied with a simple.  _ Yes. Cute Fitz. _

_ Not too late, Jemma.  _ She could almost see her mother’s smile in the little speech bubble on the screen.

_ I know. Love you. _

_ Love you, too. Turn the light off in the hall when you get home so I know you’re back safe. And be smart!  _

_ I know, mum. I will be.  _

Jemma tucked her phone back into her pocket and returned to help finish the post-party cleanup. Once the place was sufficiently clean and everyone else looked ready to find their beds at home and passout, Jemma led Fitz over to where her car was parked.

“So,” Jemma said, the almost musical beep-tone of the seat belt alert chiming in the background, “tell me where to go.” She was trying very hard to sit still and not show just how nervous she was. Fitz, her very cute crush Fitz, was in her car after they had spent wonderful hours talking to one another. It was very hard to keep herself from pinching the skin on her arm just to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. 

Fitz gave her his address and they were off on their way, driving into the lamplit night. 

“So, how long have you lived here?” she asked him after they had made it out of Hunter’s neighborhood, her eyes flicking between his face and the road.

“Since I was twelve. My mum needed a change and she got a job offer, so here we are.”

Something in his voice gave Jemma the sense that his move to the States was not something he was overly eager to discuss. Respecting his feelings, Jemma switched the topic slightly.

“Do you miss Scotland?” she asked, arching her brow but not looking at him, her eyes still trained out in front of her. In her peripheral, she saw him copy her and look out the windshield. 

“Yeah. Sometimes a lot. Sometimes a little.” She sensed him looking back at her as he spoke next. “What about you?” he continued, “Do you miss home?”

They reached a stop sign and Jemma gave him a sweetly slanted smile. “Sometimes a lot. Sometimes a little.”

Fitz let out a little chuckle as he began rubbing his palm with his thumb. She had caught him doing that during tests before or presentations. Nervous tick, she thought. 

He was shy and slightly more quiet when he next spoke.

“I remember my first day of school after I moved,” he said, “Was bloody terrified. All I wanted to do was go home, really home. I was shy, a bit of a loner. I didn’t talk to anyone. ”

“You didn’t talk to anyone?” Jemma asked softly. Her face was still turned away from his but she knit her brows together as she took in what he was saying.

“Nope. Took me months before I even tried to talk to anyone and even once I did the only person I talked to for a long time was Daisy.”

She nodded lightly, her chin barely moving up and down as she thought back to her own first day, the nerves and desperate homesickness that had been pumping through her veins. “My first day of school, all I could think about was home. Got to my new house and just fell onto my bed wishing for it. Felt miserable the first few days.”

He looked down at his hands. “I could tell.” 

They had made it to Fitz’s house and she had put the car in park. Therefore she could shift in her seat and look him dead on and not risk crashing the car in surprise.

“You could?” she asked.

His eyes flicked nervously to his hands. “The look on your face, it reminded me how I felt when I had first moved. And those first few days you kept answering questions and things but when you turned to your work you looked kind of sad, like the questions were your distraction.”

Jemma thought she was about to explode, her heart beating in her chest. Suddenly she realized just how intimate the inside of her car felt. He was so close and even in the darkness she could tell his cheeks were tinted with a blush and his eyes were a burning blue in the glare from the lamplight outside. He had just admitted he looked at her just as much as she looked at him.

“You… you looked at me?” Her voice was just a tad shy but her words were hopeful and happy. Fitz’s eyes had gone very wide and, unconsciously, Jemma moved a bit closer. 

“Uh--yeah,” he said, his wide eyes not leaving her face in spite of the deeping blush climbing towards his ears. “I just knew what you were going through. Really I wanted to talk to you but…” He trailed off and she leaned even closer.

“But what, Fitz?”

“But I couldn’t think of anything clever enough to say to impress you.”

Jemma could not keep the smile that had bubbled up in her heart from falling on her face. He had wanted to impress her? He was afraid he wasn’t clever or interesting enough to impress her? She just couldn’t fathom it. Fitz was the smartest, most interesting person she had ever met. 

“I wish you had talked to me. Or I wish I had had enough confidence to talk to you.” She looked at him closely and gave him a bright smile. “But really you didn’t need to say anything. I overheard you talking to Daisy in class and all your responses to questions. I always thought you were so funny and so smart… so handsome.”

She tried to keep herself from turning away from him then. She had just admitted she had a crush on him and there was no going back now. It was true she thought he was funny, and smart, and so very handsome. She was not going to look away now and lose her nerve.

Ever on the same page, Fitz responded confidently with, “Well we’re talking now.”

“That we are. So, what else do you want to talk about?”

His eyes darted about over her features, scanning her face, and Jemma could barely breathe as she awaited his response. 

“Us.”

The electricity between them sparked and Jemma could feel it in the small space between them. Suddenly feeling very brave, she chanced a glance at Fitz’s mouth. His tongue swiped to wet his bottom lip and he shifted just a bit closer to her. Sensing where they were headed, her heart began to pound at the bones of her ribcage but seeing her own nerves reflected in Fitz’s face helped alleviate some of her own and boost her confidence. They were in this together.

Slowly, but with great assurance, Jemma closed the remaining gap between them, leaning over the car’s center console. Helping assist the closing of the gap, Fitz’s thumb tucked under her chin and held her with a soft steadiness that simultaneously calmed her and set her alight. She let her eyes flutter shut before her lips met his in a gentle kiss. His lips were soft and warm and she was once again drawn in by his wonderful scent as well as the sparks that seemed to fly at their joined lips. Jemma couldn’t help but think that there was no better first kiss than the one she had just had with Fitz.

Their lips broke apart after just a moment of being together, but they remained connected as their foreheads touched. He was wearing a wide grin and his eyes were glowing like the streetlamps outside the windows of the car. Jemma knew she must be sporting a similar expression to his. 

“So,” Fitz started, only parting from her enough to look in her eyes, “would you be up for dinner tomorrow night?” 

“Sounds wonderful,” she said. In fact, nothing sounded more perfect.

“Great. Then--uh--it’s a date. Goodnight, Jemma,” Fitz whispered against her lips.

“Goodnight, Fitz.”

He got out of the car, looking back at least four times before entering his house. Each time he did he smiled at her and her heart did little flips in her chest. When the front door had finally shut behind him, Jemma looked straight out the front windshield, smiled so wide her face hurt, and laughed in delight. She had just kissed Fitz. She was going on a date with Fitz. As she drove home, the smile that stretched her cheeks and brightened her eyes never left her face.


End file.
